


Tick Tock

by PorcelainLove



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 4+1, Accidental clock destruction, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, M/M, Magic, Other accidents, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 10:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14669463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcelainLove/pseuds/PorcelainLove
Summary: The four times someone incapacitated the training room clock and the one time it survived unscathed.-- I am well aware that many people hate fics with original characters so for your convenience I have included a listing of who appears in each chapter. --Chapter 1: OCs, Cor, Regis. // No ship.Chapter 2: OCs. // No ship.Chapter 3: OCs, Cor. // No ship.Chapter 4: Prompto, Noctis. // Promptis.Chapter 5: Gladio, Ignis. // Gladnis.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyNightingGaleofMilvania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNightingGaleofMilvania/gifts).



> It all started with a broken clock... Literally. The moment I read that tiny line about the training room clock being broken in LadyNightingGaleofMilvania's fic I knew I had to write some crack to explain what could have happened.

“Finish her!”

There were cheers and jeers on both sides of the room even though all involved were friends.  Friendship and fairplay didn’t matter very much in a sparring session, especially when the situation involved imagining your foes were just as well trained as you.

Aeryn and Moya, two of Cor’s best trained Crownsguard, circled each other like there was blood in the water.  The rest of the Guard formed a tight circle around the two women, minimalizing the space they had to fight and upping the tension in the room tenfold.  The Marshal had had them running drills for the past hour and although everyone was running on empty, the moment Cor had vanished to ‘ _ surprise them’ _ , everything had fallen into chaos.  

Within a minute of Cor being out of the room someone had come up with the scenario.  Five minutes after that, through a complex and overly noisy game of rock, paper, scissors, the two strongest warriors were chosen.  The fact that they were also the most impressive fighters of the bunch was pure luck… Even though Cor maintained there was no such thing, only preparedness.

No one knew when Cor would be returning, or what the surprise would be.  But all the sparring and constant drills had proved to the Crownsguard was that they really needed to let off some steam in a manner of their choosing.

Aeryn looped her braid up and into itself, forming an updo that was a little harder to grab than it had been.  Moya loosened her hair and shook it out, a veritable red puffball, before she smoothed it back behind her ears.  She welcomed the challenge of working with her hair down.

There were no weapons, that would be too easy.  Hand to hand combat only, first to hit the ground would be declared the loser.

Stakes were high - the loser had to buy a round of shots for everyone present.  And they weren’t even allowed to partake. 

No one wanted to lose.

Aeryn struck first, her fist flying towards her friend’s face just as fast as the leg she swung below.  She missed on both accounts, Moya feinting to her left before leaping to the other side at the last second.  Aeryn corrected and used her momentum to kick backwards. Her foot connected with something squishy.

“Ow, Aer, why d’you always end up going for my ass?” Not even out of breath, typical Moya.

“How can I miss? It’s the biggest target around.” Aeryn answered with a smirk as she answered Moya’s raspberry with a  _ pffft _ of her own.  Moya’s single digit retort brought laughter from both sides of the fight.

The next few minutes were relatively silent aside from the excited whisperings of the crowd and the pants of exertion from the two women in the ring.  They wanted to take their time but they knew Cor was due back any second - he’d already been gone longer than expected.

Then the door cracked open and the lookout spoke quickly.

“I hear footsteps, hurry it up in there!” A pause. “Oh shit, it’s--” No one heard any more because Moya took that moment in which everyone was distracted to unleash her final trump card.  

Moya took a running leap - incredible in such a small area to move in - and jumped over Aeryn’s body and landed at her back.  She delivered a solid kick as she bounced up soon after her feet touched the floor. She expected resistance, firm resistance, but there was nothing but air.

Then a hand like a steel vice gripped her around the ankle and swung the redhead around like she was a sack of potatoes.  The woman sailed over the crowd and struck the wall with a solid sounding noise. She slid down with all the grace of a lead balloon and heard the words she’d never expected to hear.

“And this, my King, is Moya.  My  _ second _ best fighter, it would seem.” The dry voice cut through the heated training room air like a knife through butter and Moya couldn’t help but let out a flustered peep.  

Aeryn stood her ground and turned to face the Marshal and his guest, the King of Insomnia.

“King Regis, it is an honour.” Aeryn bowed deeply and, to her credit, only jumped slightly when there was a monumental clang from Moya’s general direction.

Everyone turned back to face Moya, whose face was now the same colour as her hair, and the clock that had made the huge racket. It was clear that Moya’s impact with the wall had dislodged it.

King Regis had a weird expression on his face and cleared his throat before he motioned towards Moya that she should get up.  Because Lady Luck was real and had a thing against redheads, the clock chose that moment to let out a puff of smoke through its cracked backing.

Seemed the impact had ruptured the batteries and, unfortunately, caused the clock to look like it exhaled its last breath.  Or farted. There was a series of coughing that overtook the room because almost all the Crownsguard viewed the experience as hilarious rather than awkward.

A deep rumble echoed throughout the training room as King Regis threw back his head and actually laughed.  Even the Marshal looked surprised - the King was not exactly known for having a sense of humour. Then again, no one really knew him enough to say so if that assumption was correct or not.

But, like a kiss breaking the spell on a sleeping princess or, in this case, a farting clock cutting through the tension, everyone else soon broke down laughing.

The King even offered his hand to both Aeryn and Moya to shake, announcing that he’d love to see a rematch one day when the clock was firmly nailed to the wall.

There were whispers that Cor Leonis actually cracked a smile that day.  But, on pain of death by said taskmaster, no one ever spoke of it again.


	2. Chapter 2

“Zhaan! Zhaan, shit!  Watch out”

Said Kingsglaive member stood in the center of the training room - the biggest one available, of course, and closed her eyes tighter in concentration.  The air smelled acidic, deadly, and all the other Glaives in the room quickly covered their mouths with their scarves.

Whoever had suggested that training with their Glaive uniform on (minus the headgear) would be better than regular workout wear was correct.  

There was a whirlwind building up and up around Zhaan and her bald head shone with perspiration.  The air was stifling and even with the brisk wind down thundering from corner to corner, it was getting harder to breathe.

Zhaan’s muscles bunched under her uniform as she tried to control her powers.  Magic was fine and dandy but when push came to shove, she’d always prefer to have to rely on her own inner strength than portable globes. Besides, this was what made her an asset, why she’d been chosen in the first place.  ‘ _ An incredible affinity’  _ was what she’d been told when her parents brought her in for an assessment.

It wasn’t a surprise.  She was born in Lestallum and there heat was just a fact of life.  Inescapable. And she was passionate, many a friend had called her ‘heated’ in the past.  Everything pointed to her living out her life in the Glaive, protecting until she was struck down.

The only problem was that her control had limits.  She could summon fire from her fingertips, char bone from 100m with enough concentration… none of that would protect the King from an attack that required everything the Glaive had.

And so here she was, training, getting her friends to attack her in the hopes that whatever was keeping her back would snap apart and let her unleash her full power.

But it was getting to be too much.  Zhaan groaned with the strain of trying to be bigger, better, stronger, faster,  _ hotter _ and with an underwhelming  _ whoosh _ , the whole of her outpouring of magic vanished in the blink of an eye.

“Fuck!” Zhaan moaned as she rubbed her temples in frustration.  She cracked her knuckles to get the stiffness out - her hands had been in the same position for the past ten minutes.  They ached, but she wasn’t going to give up now - not when she was closer than she’d ever been.

“Take a break, Z.” Someone said to her left.  That’d be Ry, he was always trying to get her to stop pushing so hard.  Said she’d pop a blood vessel one of these days.

“Shut up, I can do this.”

Zhaan didn’t have to look at her friends to see their eyes rolling.  She almost wanted to roll hers too at the reaction but she didn’t want to open herself to distraction.

“Say something mean.” She said instead as she closed her eyes, hoping that maybe an outpouring of emotion might be the catalyst she needed.

“Um…” Zhaan wasn’t sure whose voice that was.  Maybe one of the twins. “No?”

The dry tone that followed wasn’t hard in such arid conditions. “Please?  Just have a go at me, really try. It’ll help me focus, I’m sure.”

“No one’s going to be cussing you out in the middle of battle. You’ve got to learn how to do this for yourself.” Ry  _ again. _  Sometimes Zhaan just really wanted to punch the guy’s lights out.  They were frenemies, closer to the enemy part if she were being honest.  But as much as he antagonized her, it really helped having him around.

“Fuck you, Ry.” Zhaan said. She would have continued in that vein but she’d started to smell smoke and that was either a good sign or it meant that her nostrils were broken.

“Fuck you right back.” Came the retort.  Ry never knew when to let up. It made Zhaan furious sometimes.

“Um, guys?” The twins cried in tandem. “It’s working!” 

Zhaan could smell singing hair as a red, hot cloud of power swirled into existence around her.  She squeezed her eyes shut as she focused all her power and tried to find the eye of the storm - the one calm point in her mind where she could relax without losing control.

It felt right.

Zhaan opened her eyes and winked at her friends, proud of the power she had mastered.  She caught three identical looks of terror in return. Ry was pulling his hair and gesturing at the top of Zhaan’s head.  It was then she realized that she had literally created a ball of fire above her.

That one millisecond of lost concentration cost her greatly.  The ball touched the crown of her head and with a shriek Zhaan reached up, not even considering the fact that she wasn’t wearing protective wear, and  _ pushed _ .  The ball of fire promptly flung itself into the wall, leaving a blackened hole just above the only clock in the room.  A trickle of  _ something _ oozed out of the spot and slowly dripped down the wall, finally stopping somewhere beneath the clock.

There was a strong burning smell, but whether it was from wall or scalp, Zhaan wasn’t sure. Not good either way.

Zhaan couldn’t stop crying.  The top of her head was blistered and raw and she needed to get to the healer’s  _ now _ .  As the twins dragging her away from the room, Ry was left behind to stare in worry at the destruction wrought.  The only magic allowed in the training rooms was warping because of past incidents such as what had just happened.  They were in deep shit.

In a haze of pain, Zhaan projected her concerns as strongly as possible, hoping one of her friends might understand.  Something had to be done to cover their tracks.

If not, she was out of the job.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a knock at the door.

At first Cor mistook it for the sound of a training weapon tapping on the floor but then he listened more closely.  He was trained to hear the smallest of sounds in large situations so while the first sound piqued his interest, the second claimed it.

Cor strode over to the door and yanked it open just as the offending knocker was about to raise his fist for the third time.  Confronted by a frowning Marshal instead of cool wood was enough to make the fighter freeze in his boots.

“Yes?” Cor asked icily, not pleased with the intrusion.  He could feel the rest of the fighters behind him slow down in their training, distracted by the highly uncommon invasion of scheduled training time.  He usually would have ordered them back to the task at hand but instead he let them stare - it helped his case to have a dozen men and women glaring from behind his back.

“Yes, um, Marshal sir…” The man stuttered in shock.  Clearly still wet behind the ears, the advanced fighters wouldn’t be shaken by simple staring alone. “I’m afraid that there’s been some confusion.  We have the room booked for the next hour.”

Cor furrowed his brow and looked incredulously at the gang behind the speaker.  One of them had a Crownsguard jacket slung over one shoulder although she quickly put it on and dusted off invisible particles of dirt when Cor’s gaze fell on her.  Time off or not, disrespecting the uniform was never acceptable.

“We are training now.  The room is available again at noon.” Cor said curtly and turned to face his fighters, raising a brow until they picked up their weapons to drill once more.  

There was a small cough from behind him and Cor did an about-face.  This Guard was trying his patience. “What?”

“Sir, we mean no disrespect but… it’s almost a quarter past.”

“Speak up. A quarter past what?”

“Noon, sir.  The current time is 12:13.”  The man retrieved his cell phone from his back pocket and flicked it on.  The time glowed softly across the black backdrop. Cor watched as the 3 turned into a 4.  He felt a vein in his forehead began to pulse.

Cor was never late, he was always exactly on time or, if at all possible, early.  If the cellphone’s numbers were to be believed… No. Surely not. Inconceivable.

“Impossible, your phone must be incorrect.” The sparring noises in the background ceased once more as everyone both in and out of the room looked at the training room clock.  It was slightly askew, like a lazy student trying to maintain his composure in the face of adversity.

Or like it was hiding a great secret.

Slowly, as the group from outside came in and joined the general population, Cor strode to the far wall and, pressing in a certain wall panel, removed the small step stool from within the hidden cabinet.  Everyone waited with baited breath as Cor climbed up, took the faultless teller of time off the wall, and reacquainted his feet with the floor.

Now that he held it in his hands, Cor could detect something sour.  And the sides of the clock were rough. Upon turning it over, Cor found the battery compartment and opened it, letting two small silver cylinders fall into his palm.

They disintegrated upon impact.

Cor closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a knuckle, trying to hold off a migraine.  He composed himself in as calm a fashion as he could. This was not the fault of either his fighters or the newcomers who arrived when they were scheduled.  Someone else had made a mistake and, potentially, didn’t even realize they had done anything wrong. Cor’s nostrils flared as if he were trying to smell the culprits before he took the blame upon himself. 

Cor opened his eyes.  He knew he should have brought his phone to the training hall, he usually did, in fact.  But after one too many cases of it getting broken mid-demonstration, he’d saw fit to leave it in his office drawer.  It was an error that he would not soon be making again.

“My apologies,” Cor said instead of anything based in frustration.  “For going over our allotted time. We will take our leave.”

With a curt nod of his head, everyone dashed to their bags and gathered up their essentials, dropping their training weapons in the sanitizing boxes along the way.  Cor waited until all his fighters had left before nodding his head towards the remaining few and vacating the building as quickly as was possible.

He was late. He’d been  _ wrong _ .  For the first time in countless years… Cor was ashamed.

No one made a sound as he passed them in the halls on the way to his office, his lips pressed together tight enough to look painful.  No one wanted to incur the wrath of the Immortal, especially when he looked capable of murder.

His hands still held the clock in a deathgrip.

And upon the discovery that no batteries he had on hand would fit, the subsequent  _ crack _ that followed ensured that the poor clock was bound for the trash heap instead of the recovery room.


	4. Chapter 4

“Good one, Noct!”

Prompto’s whoop of joy came just as Noctis ducked out of the way of an attack.  Noct scowled, not in the least bit as pleased with his friend. 

“Prom, you’re supposed to be the  _ enemy _ , not my friend.  Stop going so easy on me!”

Prompto stopped in place and slammed the pole of his training spear into the floor.  It made a sharp crack but remained perfectly balanced in place. Prompto was stronger than he looked and took pride in himself every time an opponent underestimated him..

“Easy?” Came the voice with an insulted air. “ _ Easy? _ You honestly think I’m trying to be nice right now? Heck no!  Do you  _ see _ how sweaty I am? If they had noses my bunny slippers would be running for cover.  You’re just  _ good. _ ” Prompto picked the spear back up and tossed it towards the pile of used weapons in the corner.

Noctis bared his teeth in fake anger.  He clearly didn’t believe a thing Prompto was saying.  Prompto ignored the look, as he had many times before, and waved a hand towards Noctis in a gesture meant to suggest ‘all of this is amazing’.  He wasn’t sure his flailing was understood, however, so he raised his hands in the universal gesture of surrender and walked closer.

“Seriously, Noct, those training sessions with Gladio and Ignis are really paying off.  Not to mention this,” Prompto slammed a sweaty hand around Noctis’s bicep and squeezed, “is looking a lot bigger than the last time we sparred and that was only a week or so ago.”

Noct ran his free hand through his hair and chuckled with the breezy airiness of someone who was proud of themselves but didn’t want to admit it. “I can’t get too bulky, the ladies might get Gladio and me confused and chase after the wrong guy.  Hard pass, thanks.”

Prompto realized he was still gripping Noct’s arm and reluctantly let it go. “Yeah, sure, the ladies…”  He wiped his sweaty bangs away from his forehead and tried to convince himself that expecting Noctis to understand his feelings (when he hadn’t confessed or anything) was stupid.  He tried to keep himself upbeat but could sense that his features were settling into a frown.

“What’s wrong, Prom? Wanna take a break?”  Eeks, Noctis looked concerned. Shit shit! Not good!

Prompto forced a smile. “Not on your life!  But if you’re thinking this has been too easy, well, time to take the gloves off!” Contrary to his words, Prompto yanked his fingerless gloves out of his back pocket and pulled them on.  He held his open arms out and took a step back, thumbs up and index fingers pointed towards Noct, in imitation of his favourite weapon. “You ready?”

“You’re not going to, like, shoot me by accident, right?” Noctis actually looked vaguely unsettled which stung a bit.  Prompto didn’t like it when Noct looked unhappy for any reason. And as they were also best friends, it hurt when Noct didn’t fully trust him.  Even if he knew that was also silly.

“Come  _ on _ , I’m a professional, remember?” There was a glimmer of light and a flash and Prompto was suddenly holding two gleaming silver guns in his hands. “Besides, these are my training pistols.”

“They kinda look like your regular ones…” 

“It’s  _ fine _ , come on.  Besides, if it’ll help you think I’m trying to actually maim you, maybe you’ll try harder!” Prompto’s grin lit up half the room even while his mind was screaming  _ do not hurt Noctis what the hells is wrong with you he’s the best thing that ev-- _ “Ahem!” Prompto cleared his throat and scattered his thoughts.  “Bring it, Prince.”

“If you actually hurt me I’m totally forcing you to be my maid until I get better.” Noct materialized his sword and sliced at the air a few times in practice.  They’d been working on his attacking and dodging without any weapon but his body for the past hour so he hadn’t needed to access the armiger or the training weapons all day. 

“Dealio!  I’d be an awesome maid, you know.  I’d even dress up in an outfit if it’d make you get better faster.” Blink adorably.  Brief pause. Wink wink wink. Prompto liked to think he looked amazingly angelic, thank you very much. “Also, same goes for you you know. Try not to hurt me, mkay?  Repeat after me,  _ mutilating your best friend is bad _ .”

“Depends on how you look at it.” Noct said nonchalantly as he rocked from heel to toe and tested out the balance of his weapon. “I make a damn good maid, too.  Who do you think looked after Gladio the last time he got a cold?”

Prompto moved to his left, boots making no sound as he quickly came up with a plan of attack.  Noct was still staring at his blade like it held the secrets of the universe in its shiny depths.

“I’m going to guess Ignis, actually.” Yes, that’s it, just keep looking away. Your old buddy Prom is just itching to get a closer look at the clock, that’s all. 

Prompto was almost at Noctis’s back at this point and was just about to take a running leap when Noctis turned around and pointed his weapon at Prompto’s chest.

“Well I  _ helped _ , okay?  Moral support and all. I’m great at supporting… morally.  And all that jazz. Also are you honestly trying to sneak attack me right now? You’re, like, the least subtle person I know and I’m including Gladio in that.”  

“Yeah.” Prompto admitted as he double checked to make sure his guns housed rubber pellets instead of live rounds.  All good. “You wanna start or what? I’m itching for either a fight or a shower and you made this a challenge when you questioned my skills. Rude, by the way, real rude.”  He pointed his gun towards Noct and stared down the sight: perfectly aligned with Noctis’s unibrow.

Well, not that there was one anymore but Prompto could still remember walking into Noct’s bathroom one morning to find his best friend going at the space between his eyes like it was his life’s mission.  So, yeah, the Prince’s perfect face and perfect hair were a result of  _ a heck of a lot of effort. _

Effort that Prompto appreciated, although he knew he probably would have cared for his Prince even if said man suddenly developed the plague or grew scales.  Appearances were one thing (and Noctis wasn’t lacking in that department _for_ _sure_ ) but Prompto knew the real Noct and while looks would change with age, who he _was_ wouldn’t.  Prompto also liked to think that he was subtle as shit, thank you very much, but recently Gladio had been giving him some weird looks that made Prompto feel like he was about as cunning as a cactuar in a balloon factory. 

So, like, not at all.  Whatever. 

“Let’s do this.” Noctis said as he braced himself and entered a battle stance.  Prompto didn’t recognise it. Either Gladio had been teaching Noctis more uncommon techniques or Noct  _ really _ had to stop watching so many old martial arts movies.  

“I’m not going to go easy on you just cause you’re the Prince!  Besides, a scar or two would make you look, I dunno, dashing. Make you look more mysterious.  Works for Gladio, anyway.”

“If you seriously think people are overlooking Gladio’s abs and ass for his scars, you’re missing the big picture.”

Prompto didn’t know what to say to that so he chose to shut up and drop to his right, popping off a few pellets that thumped pitifully into the wall as Noctis dodged at the last second.  What followed in the next ten minutes or so was the best fight of Prompto’s life. What made it awesome was how in sync he and Noct were. They avoided each other’s attacks like it was the easiest thing in the world, gliding past each other like two ships in the night - almost touching, close enough  _ to _ touch, but drifting apart at the last second.

They probably looked graceful as hell.  But Prompto had to admit that his heart wasn’t in it.  He kept getting distracted. Noctis would warp past his head and Prompto would be drawn to those flushed cheeks and brilliant eyes.  A near-miss from a bullet made Noctis smile in exhilaration and Prompto couldn’t stop focusing on those damn perfect lips. 

And since he was running on autopilot, his imagination had plenty of time to put those wonderful snapshots of his friend to good use.  Prompto was  _ really _ happy he hadn’t gone with the form-fitting clothing he’d originally planned to wear today.

When Prompto made a running leap over Noct’s head, fell purposefully to the ground, and finishing by pushing off against the floor and flying backwards between Noct’s legs, he got up close and personal with his friend’s groin.  And everything therein. 

Noctis was… hard?  Aroused, engorged,  _ tumescent _ .  Mmm, Prompto would have to thank Ignis for that thesaurus because it was certainly coming in handy.  

Like, sure, all that blood coursing through your body during training sessions tended to awaken certain… parts.  Prompto had definitely caught Gladio and his not-so-little friend looking decidedly stiff during on of their sessions and he  _ knew _ there was nothing about him that Gladio found desirable so… yeah.  Things happened and those things were also never discussed. Ever.

But this was different.

Prompto fell back on his ass  _ hard _ and tried to get his mouth to start working again. Or rather, it was working overtime producing saliva and that… wasn’t exactly the best at the moment.  His hands were weak and still holding his guns in a semi-defensive position.

Noct stared down.  Prompto stared up. Dead. Silence.

Then Prompto moved his arm and his fingers twitched and with a  _ bang _ that sounded like the world had ended, he fired his gun at near point blank range.  

There was a split second of absolute terror because rubber or not, a pellet from this close could easily take someone’s eye out.  Was he going to be responsible for  _ actually _ disfiguring the future King?

Thankfully Noctis’s reflexes worked quicker than his mind and without any effort his blade rose up.  It cut the bullet in half, the parts quickly ghosting past Noctis’s head and slammed harmlessly into the wall.  Well, one did. The other sounded like it hit something but Prompto couldn’t pull his eyes away from Noct to double check.

“Prompto…” Noct sounded breathless.

“Noct, I--”

“That was  _ so fucking cool _ ! Oh my Gods, that was the craziest thing I’ve ever done  _ holy shit _ I wish someone could have videoed that!” Noct’s blade dissolved as he thrust his arms above his head in a  _ I’m Amazing! _ pose. “Wait, you okay?”  He went from happy dance crazy to anxious in 0.5 seconds.

Prompto picked his jaw up off the floor and replied, “I should be asking you that!”

Noctis waved off Prompto’s concern and watched as the two guns also vanished back into the armiger.  Then he extended a hand and waited until Prompto grabbed it to pull himself up. Giving the Prompto a once-over as he did so.  

Prompto kept his eyes down so he wouldn’t see if Noct’s eyes lingered in certain areas or not.  Hopefully they wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

“No harm, no foul. Besides, I wanted it rough, remember?.”  

Prompto wanted to close his eyes and smash his head into a wall. Did Noctis know what he was saying?

“I mean, heck, I basically begged you to give it to me hard so, you know, this is my fault more than yours. Although I do reserve the right to talk about your shooting off without warning until our dying days.” Mmhmm, that was a smirk.  Prompto chose to ignore what Noctis said next because as soon as he caught the word ‘premature’ he was done. 

Heated to perfection, packaged for delivery, just plain  _ done. _

Prompto felt like he couldn’t breathe.  His brain was basically a cesspool of filth because  _ he _ was super turned on by everything and everything that was happening and didn’t know what to do about it.  He didn’t have enough blood in his brain to even think up a good comeback.

Ugh.  _ Come _ back. Fuck.

“You okay, buddy?” Noct’s concern was appreciated but his moving closer and closer into Prompto’s personal bubble wasn’t.  Also he still hadn’t let go of Prompto’s hand and Noct was doing something with his thumb on the back of Prompto’s hand that felt oddly sexual.

He really needed a shower.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. We done here?” Prompto asked desperately because he felt like he needed a cold shower, like, yesterday and with his blood running so hot he wasn’t sure he could control his actions if he didn’t leave  _ right now. _

“Almost.” Noctis chirped brightly as he leaned in and moved a strand of blond hair out of Prompto’s eye.  Prompto could feel his death approaching because somehow the air got even hotter and his legs were stiff and wouldn’t move and Noctis would  _ totally _ hate him if he made a move because he was super duper straight and, and--!  

He didn’t even realize he’d shut his eyes until a gentle brush of lips against his own forced him to open his eyes and stare shock.  Noctis shifted back to his original position and looked an awful lot like a cat that had just indulged in some very fine cream. Him licking his lips was just the icing on the cake.  Also Prompto’s dick was both appreciating and  _ really not appreciating _ the little hint of tongue he could see.

“Hwa--?” Prompto asked stupidly.

“Hwah.” Noctis agreed before flicking the tip of Prompto’s nose with a fingertip.  “Let’s go. You still spending the night at my place?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Prompto nodded dumbly and Noctis grinned.

Then a strange noise became audible, like the sound of ice breaking.

They both looked at the clock.  The covering was cracked and it looked like something small and tough had passed right through the middle of the dials, killing the clock in one precise movement.

“Oops.” Noctis said as his mouth made an O of amusement.  “Better get home before Cor finds out who destroyed the clock this time.  You ready?”

Instead of answered, Prompto grabbed Noct’s hand and, with newfound strength, practically warped out of the room.

Neither of the two men noticed as the injured clock crashed to the floor seconds later, its glass shattering on impact with the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

“Cor decided to install video cameras to see who keeps breaking the training room clock.”

Ignis paused, his arms stretched in the air above him to ready his muscles for training.  He needed to remain limber else a cramp be his undoing. He didn’t know what to say so he just looked curiously at Gladio before pursing his lips and glancing upwards.

“Not there.” Gladio corrected, bouncing up and down on his heels and rolling his ankles when he detected what must have been stiffness.  “North-west and south-east corners. No blind-spots except for the entranceway.”

Ignis smiled, amused at Gladio’s knowledge of what was, likely, the Marshal’s master plan to find the culprit or culprits and make them pay.  It wasn’t that clocks were expensive, but Ignis understood that if the trainees were told at all times to be aware of their surroundings, breaking essential items in the training room was unacceptable.  He’d also be frustrated if he were in the Marshal’s boots.

“I assume that means there is no funny business planned for this evening?” Ignis questioned, his lips curved into a smile that Gladio likely heard rather than saw.

“Fuck that, we don’t get a lot of alone time as is.  I’ll send him a cheque.”

“Now, now.” Ignis chided as he dropped his arms and leaned back against the wall and admired his companion’s figure. “Intentionally destroying Citadel property is hardly appropriate for the Shield of the future King.”

“Uh huh.” Gladio finished. “And what would you have me do, Mr. Abides-by-all-rules? Ignore them and have you at my leisure?”

Ignis closed his eyes and fought to keep himself from showing how much Gladio’s words affected him.  He wasn’t sure how well he succeeded. “...No.” He said instead but didn’t continue.

Gladio moved closer and leaned in, using his minimal height difference to his advantage as he crowded Ignis who, to his credit, didn’t move a muscle. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your pause, Iggy.”

There was a flash of light as the armiger activated and Ignis’s hands were soon full.  He rolled the hilts of his weapons in his palms, feeling their weight and testing their balance.  Perfection. Then, with no notice whatsoever, Ignis snuck a foot behind Gladio’s dominant leg and pulled back, tripping the bigger man and forcing Gladio to fight to regain his standing.

“What the hells, Iggy?  How about a little warning next time?”

Ignis waited until Gladio had backed up into the center of the room before catapulting himself forward and wrapped his legs around Gladio’s chest, pulling them both onto the ground in a whirl of limbs.  In a flash, Ignis sat atop Gladio’s chest and due to some amazing gymnastics on Ignis’s end, neither of them was in the least bit injured.

“Oops.” Ignis said simply, eyes wide in what even Prompto would call an overly innocent expression.  He looked left and right, drawing Gladio’s gaze with him. Ignis could see Gladio take in the fact that Ignis’s hands were suddenly and suspiciously empty.  Ignis looked up and Gladio couldn’t help but do the same.

On the two opposite ends of the training room ceiling, there was a thin curl of smoke sinking down to the floor. Two piercing red lights had blinked out of existence and Ignis couldn’t help but explain himself.

“My hands slipped.” The voice was mournful and Ignis personally thought he did a masterful job of sounding distressed. “I will have the funds transferred to Marshal Leonis’s accounts in the morning.  How terribly clumsy of me.”

“Desperate times, desperate measure?”  Gladio’s laughter echoed in the quiet room before it was silenced by a fast and furious kiss from his lover.  “At least the clock’s still tickin’.”

Although no more training took place in the room that night, Ignis definitely got the exercise he’d been craving all week.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone recognizes where I got the names of my OCs, I love and adore you. Such a good show, will forever be missed (except that I own the DVD boxset so I can watch it anytime YASSSS)


End file.
